


Come What May

by retrovertigo (ellameno)



Series: The Great Fire [18]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Canon, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Banter, Battle Couple, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Kindred Spirits, Mission Fic, Moral Dilemmas, Neurodiversity, Recovery, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo
Summary: Following their case's greatest lead, Nick and Nora prepare to confront the man who tore her life apart.[Takes place during the quest "Reunions"]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Important Note!**  
>  For those of you who have followed this for a while, I'm doing this a bit differently this time. I'll be posting three 4k chapters in this work incrementally rather than all at once so I have some update buffer time for my busy schedule. (I'm cramming in freelance + NaNoWriMo + holidays next month). I hope it's not too weird a system for you!

        “God damn, what a shot, kid,” Nick remarked when the motorized shooting range stalled to a halt. She had struck every target near the bullseye. “They should call you Laurie Starr ‘cause you’re _Gun Crazy_."

        Nora wiped the sweat from her brow. “Who’s she?”

        “Nevermind.”

        “After my time? Or before it?” she needled.

        “I was older than you, but not _that_ old. That was before my granddad’s time.”

        “So you’ve just always had the interests of a hundred-fifty-year-old man,” Nora said flatly.

        “I’m sixty.”

        “Plus what?”

        He peered over his shoulder at her. “What’ya mean?”

        “You’ve never mentioned how old you were when the world ended.”

        “It’s none of your beeswax, that’s why.” Nick rung the bell to inform the neighbors that their target practice had finished.

        “I’d say... fifty-six.”

        _“Hey.”_

        “Yeah?” she asked eagerly.

        He snatched her weapons bag off the ground. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

        “I’ll just keep guessing higher until I get one.”

        “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

        She gave a coy shrug. “Only because you told me I am.”

        “And you believed me?”

        _“Hey."_

        They walked through the winding overgrowth back to Nora’s house. It had been the first time they’d returned to the neighborhood since her party, after her Railroad comrades had gone quiet on her as they prepared for the confrontation with Kellogg.

        Nick’s own business had lulled. He knew why: summer. The heat made people lazy. Long days meant raiders were less likely to rear their heads. Crop was abundant, sometimes given away on the side of the road. You couldn’t pay someone to take all your vegetables. His summer mysteries were often more in relation to hooliganism than anything actually criminal.

        The combination of heat and restlessness was a toxic cocktail for his brain, one that left him pursuing shadowy thoughts rather than villains. But not since Nora was here. On their little break, she had spent her time sunning with Ellie on his roof or running the bases with the neighborhood kids after a water fight— standard seasonal recreation. But although Nick didn’t participate, favoring the shade and the direct air of the desk fan, there was comfort in knowing she was close by. If he needed a distraction, he could just call.

        As Nora pushed open her front door, they were greeted with the mild but welcome breeze of the circulating air.

        She turned to him. “I’m going to freshen up before we leave for HQ. Would you get my bag of heavy armor? It’s on the bed.”

        On his way down the hall, something caught his gaze; Nora’s guest room had been rearranged back into a nursery. The crib and its mobile were repaired, dragged back in from wherever it’d been stored. A baseball mitt and glove rested on the dresser, as well as a stack of children’s books. As if Nora was planning ahead, or perhaps preparing for whatever age Shaun was when they found him. It was impossible to say how much time had passed since Kellogg had kidnapped her infant— she could’ve easily woken up ten hours or even ten years after the fact.

        Nick grabbed the luggage and hauled it into the front room before he found himself snooping too much, the way his mind was programmed to do.

        A year ago he hadn’t expected another child to enter his cobbled-together family, not so soon at least. Should he make the office more kid-friendly? Baby-proof things? No, the boy would likely spend his time in Sanctuary— carting him to and fro wouldn’t make much sense. _Oh._ Jeez _,_ when this would become a rescue mission, how precarious would it be to transport a baby or toddler or whatever from hostile territory back to Nora’s place? How the hell _did_ families travel in the wasteland? Perhaps the Railroad could figure out something; they moved synths without being caught, maybe it was all cake to them.

        He took out a pack of cigarettes but then stopped himself.

        Regardless of age, or location, or logistics of travel... should he start smoking outdoors only?

        ... What if Shaun didn’t like him at all?

        “You alright, buddy?” Nora inquired. Nick turned to her. “You were just… staring at your cigarettes.”

        “Oh, I was just thinkin’ about the future.” Nick stuffed them back into his pocket. “Is it too late for a New Year’s resolution?” he asked with a half smile.

        ---

        Trading the open wasteland for the shadows of Boston’s towering ruins was a godsend in the summer heat, even if it meant getting lost in the labyrinthine city streets. Their route wound in a not-so-efficient way, leading them down a road less traveled and thus bursting with new underbrush. Maybe that was for the best; taking a beaten path to Railroad headquarters could attract unwanted attention.

        They passed a pre-war cinema marquee, the old letters rearranged to say something audaciously rude as raiders were wont to do. But of course, it only made Nora laugh.

        “I used to go to that movie theater all the time,” she mused. “It’s funny, now that I think about it, Deacon is always pestering me with endless questions about my pre-war life…” She peered at him. “But I never really ask you much about yours.”

        “That’s ‘cause you know better.”

        “You liked movies, though?”

        He gawked at her. “Of course I like movies, who _doesn’t?_ ”

        “What was the first one you saw in the theater?”

        “Wow. Now _that’s_ a question. Lemme rack through these files.” Nick tried to send his mind backwards. His eyes panned to Nora and she smiled, an impish gleam in her own. “Hold on now.”

        “What.” The smirk remained.

        “I see what this is, Ms. Lawyer.” His gaze broke away. “You’re trying to guess Nick’s age again.”

        “Let’s see,” Nora squinted up at the sky, “my first movie was… _Snowy Lane Meets Santa Claus_.”

        “Oh heck no, you’re not that young—” Nick again turned to her— “ _you can’t be_.”

        Nora laughed. “Is that a problem for you?”

        “H-How old were you when you got hitched?”

        “I hadn’t been to law school yet.”

        Nick pinched his brow. “Goodness, I’m runnin’ with a child.”

        Nora held a lot of cards to her chest, but he swore she’d mentioned something about thirty— but maybe she was talking about the _hypothetical_ thirty—

        “ _Actually,_ my family could never afford to take all us kids to the movies at once, and I was also kind of afraid of dark rooms and loud noises,” Nora explained. “So I’d wait till things came out on home video. I didn’t go into a movie theater until I was in middle school and I had to chaperone my younger cousins. None of the adults wanted to see a Snowy Lane film.”

        “They were too formulaic. See one, you see them all.”

        “At least you always know Snowy’s gonna come out on top. But it was scary for me to go by myself like that,” Nora added, softer. “I didn’t need that extra stress of the unknown.”

        “You like predictability?”

        “I don’t like getting blindsided by a sad ending.”

        “Just do what I do and go in expecting the worst. Then, when the leads ride off into the sunset, it’s a pleasant surprise.”

        “That’s depressing.”

        “What’s depressing is how I always see the happy ending and think, _‘yeah, and then what’_? I never set out to be a cynic, but _someone’s_ uncle brought it up every damn time and it _stuck_.”

        It was funny how little things from a childhood roughly a hundred years ago deeply encoded themselves into the synth’s brain, like a parasite. And by ‘funny’, he meant frustrating. Odd memories gradually popped up like he’d disturbed something sleeping under the surface of his psyche: a broken arm, the day the stove caught on fire, his cousin’s funeral, that _horrible_ surprise party.

        “What’s your favorite movie, then?” Nick asked, trying to change the subject.

        Nora shrugged.

        “Oh c’mon, you can’t bring up film and suddenly not wanna talk about it.”

        She said nothing.

        “You don’t wanna talk at all, huh,” Nick said gently.

        Nora shook her head.

        “That’s OK, we can be quiet.” It was now obvious he had tanked _both_ their moods. Nora’s mental state grew stronger every day, but with the biggest day of her life now only twenty-four hours ahead of them, he should’ve known she was walking an emotional tightrope. “Can we play the radio at least?” he asked cautiously, and soon Artie Shaw’s orchestra carried him some place softer. Hopefully, it soothed Nora too.

        ---

        Deacon slammed a plastic crate on the round-table, making everyone jump... Except Desdemona, who barely even twitched.

        “Welcome to Tinker Mart, how can we help you?” he sang, while Tom muttered something about jostling unstable materials.

        “Deac—” his boss started before he cut her off again.

        “What’s that you say? A _cereal_ killer is on the loose? Get it? Kellogg— Look, you’d need to see it spelled out, I don’t know why I thought that joke would work in a verbal context—”

        “Deacon,” Desdemona repeated firmly.

        “Right, right— OK, my friends, since this is a collab-o-mish, it’s only fair to stock you up with the best goodies the humble Railroad can offer. Tom?”

        Tinker Tom’s narrowed eyes brightened slightly. “Uh. Yeah. Deacon and I conferred about what the job needs and the tactics you two use out there.” He reached cautiously into the box. “ _So_ , since neither of ya are the heavy weapons types _but_ need to plow through potential waves of synths, we got a taser for the lady, and a shock baton for the gent.”

        “A shock baton?” Nick echoed.

        “Yeah. You’re used to those, being on the police force, right?” Deacon asked.

        “I think you sorely misunderstand what ‘beat cop’ means.”

        “Haha, _sorely_.”

        “Maybe the outfit finally fooled someone, but I’m _also_ all servos and circuits. Wouldn’t the shock, uh…. be bad for _me_?”

        “Not if you’re wearing rubber,” Tinker Tom replied.

        “Pardon?”

        Deacon tossed Nick a pair of elbow-length gloves. “We tested a bunch, and these were the ones that worked.”

        “It was fun,” Tom said.

        Deacon’s smile vanished. “It was _not_ fun.”

        Nick held them up. “Huh. Well, thank you for your service.”

        Tom dug back into the crate. “We also got your pulse grenades—”

        “Salvaged by yours truly,” Deacon added as if he expected another compliment.

        “And _Carrington_ donated some top-shelf medical supplies, just in case the bastard gets a jump on you, Whisper.” Tom’s confident posture turned into something stiff. “He… He’s really dangerous, y’know.”

        “She knows,” Nick and Deacon said at once.

        Nora accepted the kit with a gracious smile, but Tinker Tom still wore guilt in his brow.  Desdemona remained zen, her cigarette burning between her lips as if her mind was a thousand miles away. With the way Deacon stumbled over his jokes in a manic fashion, Nick suspected each of them feared they were sending a woman to her death.

        “Lastly, uh, ballistic weave. My speciality,” Tom said.

        “If you wonder how any of us got out of the Switchboard alive, it was thanks to this.” Deacon patted Tom on the shoulder, and the quartermaster flashed him a weak smile. Desdemona took a long drag.

        “It’s basically comparable to the heavier armor you’ve got,” Tom said, “but with fuller coverage and less bulk. Of course, you could still put your polymer over for additional protection—”

        “And you will,” Nick said, “at least on the chest.”

        “Tom,” Desdemona finally spoke. “Will you go inventory our combat stock? Portion out the armor for tomorrow’s raid?”

        “You got it, Dez.” He glanced at Nora. “Good luck.”

        “So... this _is_ really happening,” Nora said.

        “Yeah, dude, I told you so.” Deacon smiled. Just then a familiar four-legged friend sniffed at his haphazardly laced shoes. “Oh, hey, thanks for letting us dogsit for a bit, he’s a _real good boy_ ,” he cooed as he took handfuls of Dogmeat’s neck fur and squished it upwards, making the dog’s face look comical. Nora laughed.

        “How the hell did you sniff out the lousy merc, anyway?” Nick inquired.

        “Trade secret,” Deacon said.

        “C’mon, from one investigator to another. I’ve proverbially lost sleep over tracking this S.O.B.”

        “There’s no clearance issue here,” Desdemona said to the spy. “Everyone at base is already on Level Three out of necessity,” she added with resignation.

        “Dez, that’s not how to gain favor. You’re supposed to say: Alright, _for you_ , Mr. Valentine.” Deacon stopped playing with the dog and straightened up. “One of our informants noticed chickens near the Natick area were getting snatched. Now that doesn’t scream Institute— I mean, the snatching does, but chickens? They gonna make robot chickens to replace our fowl to spy on us—”

        “Deacon.”

        “Anyway, as farmers do, she takes extra precautions. So during a midnight run to the outhouse— TMI but important— she hears the chickens stir. Looks out the window— there’s this asshole trying to pick the coop lock! She waits, since like most of us she didn’t take a shotgun with her, but the guy gives up, steals a peck of broad beans and bails. Here’s the kicker: he’s bald, ugly, and wearing an arm brace. I added the ‘ugly’ part because I’ve also been a bald dude in an arm brace, and a lot of us are handsome devils. Right Val?”

        “Subjective,” Nick replied.

        “But thanks to the _cutest doggie in the world,_ we got a scent off the coop and bean-patch leading us to Fort Hagen. After a few revolving stakeouts, we’ve confirmed that someone is living there and only leaves to hunt.”

        “Fort Hagen…” Nora said softly. “I lived in the township when Nate was deployed, back when we were still saving for a house.”

        “Oof, well, happy homecoming,” Deacon said.

        “I hated it there. The checkpoint guards used to give me shit twice a day because of my law school commute. They wanted to know why I couldn’t just stay at home like the other military wives.”

        “Yikes,” Deacon hissed.

        “My one friend was the head honcho’s daughter, and they had a pool, so the weekends weren’t too bad.”

        “Ugh, a swimming pool sounds so good right now— it’s hot up there.”

        “Yeah, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say they haven’t cleaned it in a while,” Nick said.

        “I wonder what happened to her…” Nora sighed. “She threw my baby shower.”

        Nick squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, hey, eyes on the prize, kid.”

        “Yeah, we can pool party and shower babies when this is over,” Deacon added.

        “So what’s your end of things, Deacon?” Nick asked.

        “Already got a few fair-weather agents camped out around the parameter to make sure no Institute backup arrives, and that is a Wonka situation.”

        “What does that mean?” Nora asked.

        “That no one goes in or out, I presume,” Nick said.

        “Exactly.” Deacon said. “We’ll head in when it seems safe to do so.”

        After a quick nutrition break, Nick and Nora packed up their new supplies. When they slung their respective bags over their shoulders, Deacon nearly lept over an office chair to reach them.

        “What? Leaving the party so soon?” Deacon asked. “I figured it’d be an overnight, knowing _you_ ,” he said pointedly to Nora.

        “I would stay, but I don’t want to make the entire trek tomorrow. That’d be even more exhausting,” Nora replied. “I should head out now, don’t you think?”

        “Oh— yeah, totally. 100% boss, that’s a smart move.” He smiled at Nick. “See, she’s learning.”

        Deacon was laying it on a little too thick; Nick suspected the spy may actually be disappointed.

        “Will I see you before… everything?” Nora asked.

        “Like, the Railroad in general? _Me?_ Personally? Uh.” She nodded and Deacon paused. “Likely not. _I_ might see you though.” He gave a chortle.

        “Oh.” Now _Nora_ sounded disappointed. “Well, tell Glory I said hi.”

        “Sure. And yeah. Uh, reiterating what Tom said... this shit is no joke.” Deacon resumed his professional airs. “I’m sure Kellogg won’t be shocked to have you two wind up on his doorstep. As long as he doesn’t catch on that our people are in the mix, he’s gonna underestimate you. That’s your ace in the hole. But you _can’t_ underestimate _him_.”

        “I won’t.”

        “Remember what I taught you; save your bullets, lay traps, have patience, use the terrain to your advantage…” He trailed off, but then stuck out his hand. “And good luck.”

        Nora shook his hand, seeming a bit confused by the formality of it all. Once they pulled away, Deacon stood for a moment, perhaps unsure if there was anything left to say. Advice to give. Last words. But nothing came. His taut jaw relaxed into another simper and he flitted away, calling out to Tom.

        “You gonna be OK?” Nick asked as they left. He found the agents’ collective unease contagious, and _his_ mortality wasn’t on the line.

        “I never sleep good down there anyway,” Nora muttered. “I already slept underground for two centuries. And eleven agents snoring in a stone chamber isn’t the greatest white noise.”

        It was difficult to tell if she was deflecting or actually complacent about the danger she was walking into. Nick didn’t want her to be cocky, but she didn’t need him sending her into an anxiety spiral either.

        “Well, I may not be a travel agent, but I know the best place for someone like you to get a good night’s sleep.”

        ---

        “This is too much food,” Nora said, halfway through her breakfast of chickpea hash, sausage and eggs.

        “You’ve never said that in your life,” Nick parried.

        “I’ve never had a meal this heavy so early.”

        “That ain’t true either.”

        “I’m just tired.” A more believable excuse.

        They’d stayed the previous night in Vault 81, both believing a hot shower and pre-war bed would do her good. But alas, creature comforts were no match for her insomnia. Nick vetoed the cafeteria meal; something farm-fresh cooked over an open flame would suit this day better. And an ex-client owed him a favor.

        Nora now sat on the stairs of Oberland Station’s wooden tower, head resting against the weathered white shingles. Something else lurked in her heavy eyes, akin to that mile-long stare Desdemona had the day before.

        _Dread._

        “Y’know, hun,” Nick started, his tone hushed, “if you’re too out of it or just plain spooked I can go it alone—”

        “ _No,_ ” she said. “I _need_ to do this.”

        _Closure._

        It’d be cathartic for him too, facing someone from the Institute. The whole synth thing aside, they were responsible for many gruesome scenes he’d stumbled upon, as well as the disappearance of Becky Fallon’s husband— the man who had taught Nick to sew.

        “Alright. Eat up as much as you can, you’re gonna need the protein.” He picked her cup off the step. “I’ll see if the sisters got any more coffee.”

        The women farming behind the check station straightened up when they saw him. Not out of fear but… Well, not fear of _him,_ at least. It’d been quite the opposite this morning; giggled conversation behind their hands. But after a few insensitive word choices on their part, the already moody Nora had snapped at them. Nick could get called every insult in the book but the term “thing” always stung the worst. Something Nora knew well. The one insult he could never bite back on because, well, it was hard to believe he _wasn’t_ just a “thing”.

        The sisters were extra apologetic when informing him they were out of coffee, but offered to pack Nora sandwiches for the road as an apology. Nick didn’t need a peace offering to let bygones be bygones, but he’d gladly accept any favor that kept his girl fed.

        Upon his return, he was shocked by what he saw: Nora on the ground.

        “Push-ups?” he remarked with baffled amusement.

        “Yeah,” Nora said, making the feat look easy. On second thought, he had never tried it with his new mechanical arms. “Deacon often makes me do push-ups after breakfast. Says it’ll wake me up.”

        “That’s pretty disciplined for you,” Nick quipped, knowing how she was a slow riser.

        “He’s a goofball, but he takes his job super seriously. As he should, I guess.’

        “Huh. So you like that?” he asked tentatively.

        “What?”

        “The discipline.”

        “Kind of reminds me of Nate.”

        He felt awkward for reasons he didn’t understand. “I don’t... coddle you, do I?”

        “What? No. Even if you did, well... I need you.”

        “Huh?”

        “Sometimes I hate him for making me do these. I need that softness you bring me... 'Cause I need to fall into something when I can’t deal with harshness anymore.” She reached out her hand and he pulled her to her feet.

        “I ain’t so soft to fall into though,” Nick said. Nora smirked and knocked on his chest. They both laughed. “Feeling any better?”

        “Yeah.” Her eyes were still a bit droopy, but that spark flickered inside them. That desire to be on the front lines, even when she was terrified.

        “I’m ready when you are, hun.” He put the sandwiches into her pack. “By the way, I think you scared some manners into those farm girls.”

        _“Good.”_

        ---

        The wind mowed through the summer air, pushing on Nora’s back like a gentle hand urging her forward, towards destiny. Nick did not lead her down the streets she was used to traveling during her pre-war days, opting to cut right through in the straightest line possible.

        Thankfully, the river locks had rusted shut over the centuries, forming a convenient shortcut to the other bank and avoiding a known Raider highway. Sometimes, the beaten path was the most dangerous. However, the rocky incline they hiked once across was a slow, precarious climb, Nick holding her hand, pulling her up gaps that were just out of reach for her shorter limbs.

        Nora took a breather after the second hill. It’d be foolish to exert all her energy tackling the terrain, when the most important moment of her new life waited at the top.

        The looming confrontation scared her, yes, but she’d never felt so… prepared. Fighting fit, even with this new blow to her stamina. Her legs could carry her farther than ever, wielding weapons and armor which once weighed her like cement. She didn’t look that different: maybe less of the residual pregnancy weight around the middle, and Nick had commented on her calves.

        “Oh, wait!” Nora exclaimed out loud. “Nick, look.” She turned to him and flexed her arm. The muscle was much more defined.

        “Holy cow, where were you hiding that?” he asked. Nora giggled with pride. “Very nice job.”

        “I thought this Vault-suit would stop fitting at some point, but it’s amazing how much it conforms to shape,” she said, pulling on the elastic fabric. “My ass was, like, so huge back then.”

        “It’s the same— your calves have just caught up to your thighs so everything matches proportionally.”

        Nora stared at him for a moment, and Nick took in a sharp breath to say something. “Alright, alright, Detective,” she interrupted. “Weird mystery to solve.”

        “My brain went into autopilot— I should’ve known how that—”

        She waved a dismissive hand. “No, good to know, Mr. Mental Measurements Tracker.” Nora glanced at him. “You don’t think Dogmeat’s getting fat, do you?”

        “Seemed fine to me. But you could change up his diet a little. It can’t be table scraps every night.”

        “Oh sure, I’ll run to the grocery store after we nab Kellogg and pick up diet dog food.”

        ---

        “Jeez,” Nora breathed, seeing the security gate come into view. The road leading to it had been unrecognizable, everything overgrown and rusted.

        The further they trekked, the more she could see the sheer destruction that had followed the war. Buildings had crumbled, cars abandoned on the street becoming planters for the new flora. But Fort Hagan stood pristine, likely built to withstand a land war coming to their shores. Her stomach squirmed, never expecting such a familiar landmark to strike fear in her.

        Nora took a step forward, but Nick pulled her back. “I smell exhaust on the wind. Outdoor generator—  there’s likely turrets here to keep folks like us out.” He ruffled her hair. “You sit tight for a sec while I see if I can’t disarm ol' Kellogg’s security system.”

        He disappeared into the brush and behind the Fort. Everything was quiet except for the hiss of the breeze, but now that Nick mentioned it, there was a less organic hum in the air. Nora’s gaze wandered around and the nostalgia began to overwhelm her. She didn’t even like it here, but something about seeing the cafe, sans roof and wall, compelled her to revisit.

        After entering through the door, out of habit rather than necessity, Nora pulled over a chair and tried to keep her wits about her. This would be a long, trying, dangerous day and there was no energy in her reserves to be wasted on crying over a ruined coffee shop.

        Then she saw the skeletal remains on the counter. She’d grown used to seeing bleached bones and skulls all around the wasteland, but never somewhere she’d known so intimately. Her gaze shot away, fixating on a large ladybug crawling across the floors instead. _You didn’t know them,_ she told herself, though she wasn’t certain it was true.

        “Goodness, there you are,” Nick said, peering around the door frame. “I didn’t see you— I thought you got snatched.”

        “Sorry,” Nora said quietly.

        “Don’t fly away on me next time we’re sneaking up on the Institute, OK?” Nick urged, his brows upturned. She now noticed his hand clutched tight to his chest, like his synthetic heart was beating a mile a minute. The tears flooded her eyes. “N-No, I’m not scolding you.”

        “I know.” Nora flashed him a reassuring look. “I just… I wouldn’t have moved if I thought it’d scare you so much.”

        He gave her a small smile. “I sabotaged the generator. You should get your new armor on; I think I found a way in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dramatic organ music] What lurks ahead for our heroes? Stay tuned!  
> I'll have ch 2 for you in November! Thanks in advance for being understanding with this format change as I try to juggle life and fanworks <3
> 
> I also wanted to say that it's AAW and I started this series two years ago on this same week I just wanna thank everyone who has followed it or given a kind word. Having some romantic comedic fun but with maturity and drama and a-spec rep has been something I really want to put out in the universe and I’m just really glad it’s gone over this well.
> 
> Big thanks to seaweedredandbrown and Coldharbour for beta-reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for your patience! It's the halfway point of NaNo and I somehow sprinted to where I need to be at this point. Me and my [beta reader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweedredandbrown/pseuds/seaweedredandbrown) (who does a VERY fine job and you should go read their work) both have fried egg brains, so, things take a while and usually I don't update AT ALL during November.
> 
> Please do enjoy.... CHAPTER 2. [CW for a bit of gore in a crime scene context]

        Slow and steady, Deacon had said. Base security being automated, it was easy for Nick to hack the system and to turn it against the Gen 2’s guarding the halls. The pair hauled ass when they could, running from room to room as turrets kept the synths distracted by pumping them full of lead. Yet finite bullets against metal only did so much for so long.

        Nick and Nora reached a passage leading to storage and locker rooms, a complex fallout bunker. _Great. More tunnels._ Perhaps the people of the town lived down here until it became safe to return to the surface. She hoped so, even if it didn’t explain the occasional skeletons.

        At a fork in the corridors, a voice crackled over a loudspeaker. One that’d been seared into Nora’s mind since the day she watched Shaun get ripped from Nathan’s arms.

        _Kellogg_.

        “Well, well. If it isn’t Dorothy and the Tin Man. Where’s Tot—”

        “Don’t get so smug,” Nick interrupted. “She made that joke months ago, you ain’t original.”

        “Isn’t that just like you, Valentine?” Kellogg replied. “Cordial until someone steps on your toes.”

        “What could you know about me?” Nick scoffed. “We never even spoke.”

        Kellogg let out a gravelly cackle. “If you think an Institute toy exists off the radar for a hundred years, you’re not such a great detective after all, are you? We know everything.”

        “Wh— What do you mean, everything?”

        “He’s lying, Nick,” Nora said, loud enough so the hitman could hear.

        “Right, ‘course.” Nick straightened up. “I might look like trash, but gimme a break, I’m only sixty— I wound up on the receiving end of a runaway and her baseball bat.”

        The echo of Kellogg’s laughter froze Nora more than the chill of the corridor.

        “He must be in some sort of security room,” Nick muttered. “We find that and the lowlife is ours.”

        “And Shaun?” Nora asked.

        “Maybe,” Nick said and Nora clutched her chest slightly, feeling the metal of Nate’s wedding band press against her skin. “But do you really wanna picture him in here?”

        Nora shook her head. She was painfully aware that Kellogg was tracking their every move, but she still wanted to keep a brave face.

        More synths laid in wait, biding their time in each room, but Nora held the upper hand sliding EMP weapons under their feet. They came upon yet another bend outside a canteen, and chose the path that was well lit for safety. Nora squinted into the blaring light as her eyes adjusted from the darkness.

        The speaker squeaked with feedback. “When a tin can and a TV dinner break into your kitchen, there’s only one thing to do. _Cook ‘em_.”

        A blast of flame shot out from the wall. Nick and Nora dove back, narrowly missing it. She felt a sharp pain on her lip once she landed, and licked the metallic taste off.

        “ _Shit._ You alright?” Nick asked.

        “Fine, I think. Just hit my mouth on my teeth.” Nora pat her hair and face, hoping she hadn’t lost an eyebrow too.

        Nick found the source of the trap and disabled the propane. “Good thing we didn’t shoot a stray bullet into that. He really did expect us.”

        “It’s worse than fire and a split lip from here on out,” Kellogg said. “I’m doing you a charity here. Just go home.” His voice carried the same tired tone of a homeowner plagued by solicitors.

        This was not something frivolous. Kellogg, the man who ripped apart Nora’s life, thinking she would possibly walk away caused her to fume.

        “I don’t give up. Not when my family is involved,” Nora bit back.

        “Well, when you bleed out on the floor, just remember I’m a nice guy and I warned you first.”

        “Your story won’t end here,” Nick whispered, extinguishing her nerves with a caress on her shoulder. “Not while I’m around.”

        ---

        Further and further they battled their way down the corridors, using all their wits and resources to take down the guards. Though the progress was slow, the Railroad’s supply of electrical sabotage based weaponry kept them from harm. Nora had no idea how she would’ve made it past the first wave without them.

        But by the time they got to an eerie office— one that nearly looked to be furnished like a child’s bedroom—  it seemed the synths were stronger and more determined than ever. Nora’s grenade only fell one of three, and soon they were under another barrage of laser-fire.

        “Halt!” one shouted as the duo ducked behind the file cabinet for cover.

        “When all this is over, I owe you a stiff drink,” Nick said as he reloaded.

        “I’m out of pulse grenades,” Nora hissed. “I don’t think you can baton them— They have armor.”

        “Change of plans: I’m gonna talk nice to them like I did in the Switchboard tunnels.”

        “Careful. Those synths weren’t taking direct orders.”

        Another laser blast rushed over their head, scorching the wall.

        “Lemme borrow your taser. If I can fool ‘em long enough to find a weak point, I think I’ll be fine.”

        Nora took a deep breath and handed him the weapon. This time, she did not fear his demise... _as much._ She stared at the smoke still wafting from the cracked wood and wondered how much heat synthetic skin could withstand.

        “I have orders from the top; stand down,” Nick said. There was a surprising pause.

        “What is the new protocol code?” one asked.

        “Uh.”

        Kellogg laughed. “Guess you didn’t do your homework.”

        “Code 86,” Nick bluffed.

        “Would you repeat—”

        There were two surges of electricity, and then the telltale clatter.

        “Oh. Of fucking course,” Kellogg grumbled. “Useless heaps of scrap.”

        “I take offense to that,” Nick quipped. Nora jumped out from her hiding place.

        “You want in, freezer-burn? You can’t just take a hint and leave?”

        “Seems you don’t know us at all,” Nora said.

        “Well. I guess you’ve made your choice.”

        The chamber door swung open and Nora could feel her heart in her throat. The slowly entered what looked to be a large central command center, with desks and monitors and a massive world map. With a heavy sigh, Kellogg rose up from his seat in front of one of the screens, gun in his hand.

        Nick kept his pistol trained on Kellogg, while Nora locked the door behind them so the backup synths couldn’t get through.

        “So... you came to kill me,” Kellogg said as he strolled over.

        “No,” Nora replied, and he gave her a skeptical look. “I came to get justice.”

        “Justice?” he chuckled. “What are you gonna do? Take me to court and put me away?”

        “I’m sure there’s a nice spot waitin’ for you in Diamond City’s slammer,” Nick said.

        “Oh. Uh-huh. Leave me sitting pretty till the Institute shows up to bust me out?” Kellogg asked. His gruff voice was so strangely calm. “Now, now, Mr. Valentine, the entire town gets slaughtered, wouldn’t that make every rumor about you justified?”

        Nick straightened his aim; the words must have hit him hard.

        “So what do we do; just point our guns forever until you die of natural causes?” Nora asked.

        “It’s up to you,” Kellogg said, his posture slack like he’d grown bored of armed confrontations. “I was minding my own business. _You_ drew the guns on me.”

        “Put your weapon down and maybe we can talk this out,” Nick said.

        Kellogg shook his head slowly. “I don’t think she wants to talk this out.”

        “Don’t put words in my mouth,” Nora said, her eyes narrowed. “I told you, I didn’t come here to kill you. I just want my boy.”

        “As you can probably see, the daycare’s closed,” Kellogg jabbed with a sarcastic smile.

        Nora furrowed her brow. “Well, where is he?”

        “I thought you fancied yourselves detectives.” His gaze moved between them. “Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of… I dunno, battle of wits? ‘Cause, frankly, if you shoot me now you’re shit out of luck.”

        “Then let’s talk,” Nora said. “I have a lot to say to you.”

        He chortled. Then gave an even louder guffaw as he slowly lowered his gun. “What a fucking interesting girl.”

        ---

        They sat around a desk, Kellogg on one side, Nora and Nick on the other. For what seemed like an eternity, a charged silence crackled between them. Kellogg stared at a fixed point above their own eye-line, a half-smile on his thin lips as if he was ruminating on something. Nora wasn’t sure if she should allow him the time to think, but she didn’t exactly know what to say either. His eyes shot back to hers.

        “So what are you gonna do now that you finally have my captive audience? Scream? Cry?” Kellogg asked. Again, the softness of his tone made his sharp words all the more disquieting.

        “You’re not in a position to taunt her, jackass,” Nick snapped.

        Nora’s head buzzed with a million things, but somehow none of them felt adequate. Here she was, face to face with the man who murdered her husband, and instead of being a dramatic moment, it held a surreally causal air. Like he was merely a slimy courtroom defendant that she detested but had to treat with civility.

        “Where’s the kid?” Nick asked.

        “Who? Shaun? I haven’t had him in a while,” Kellogg said, reclining.

        “Be more specific.”

        “Eghhhh...” He moved his hand from side to side. “I wanna say five months.”

        “Five months,” Nora balked. She couldn’t decide if that was a relief or a gut-punch. Discovering the Railroad much sooner than she did wouldn’t have helped, but then again… She had spent a sizable window of time messing about while this disgusting merc held her poor baby boy captive. Nora blinked away tears and tried her best to stay stoic.

        “I’m gonna ask you again; where’s her kid?”

        “Oh... You know...” Kellogg rolled his head as if he was more concerned by a crick in his neck than the revolver pointed at his chest.

        “This ain’t the time to play cute.”

        “Oh, I know, I know... Hey, can I at least have a last smoke?”

        “Sure. Doesn’t have to be your last though,” Nick said, as he reached in his pocket and slid a carton and lighter across the table.

        Kellogg gave a derisive chuckle. “So diplomatic. Doesn’t sound like a pre-war cop to me.”

        “And what do you know about pre-war cops?”

        “She’s your partner, right? I know that if one of their own gets victimized, they’ll stop at nothing to get revenge.”

        “There were a lotta rotten cops, sure. But I’m a detective— even back then, I was a _desk_ guy. And when my life got torn to shreds, all _I_ got was an ‘oh well’ and mandatory therapy.”

        Kellogg took a drag as he passed back Nick’s paraphernalia. “And don’t you wish they would’ve smashed someone’s head in for you? Or handed you the bat?”

        Nick was unexpectedly quiet. “D— Don’t you act like you know me. Or Nick.”

        “Job profiling aside, I know a lot more about the old world than these rubes on the surface.”

        “Surface?” Nora asked. “Are you in a Vault?”

        “That’s just what we call you people. You’re on the ground floor. Nothin’ special.” His eyes flashed back to Nick. “And you. You old-world types think you’re such hot shit, holier than thou, huh? As if being from the society that ended the world makes you better people than the rest of us trying to salvage what’s left of it?”

        “Some of us did the best we could, but you can’t push a boulder up a hill all by yourself.”

        “And what are _you_ trying to salvage?” Nora asked Kellogg bitterly, thinking of the Minutemen, the Railroad, and the unaffiliated individuals like Hancock who tried to build a place where misfits were welcome. “You’re nothing more than a hitman for slave drivers and mad scientists.”

        “Progress doesn’t happen by coddling the slums. Progress happens by making sure we climb higher and higher, and that usually means we need to step on people to reach it.”

        “That sounds more like the old world than anything,” Nora said.

        “And what did _you_ do about it, _housewife_?”

        “I said don’t you talk to her like that,” Nick snapped again.

        Nora was experiencing the unique fear of being known by a stranger. How did Kellogg know how to make her feel small? To repeat the things she hated hearing? To remind her what she would never be again, even if she wanted to, because _he_ had taken it away from her?

        “Enough chin-wagging, Kellogg,” Nick said, “next thing outta your mouth better be worth keeping you alive.”

        He feigned shock with widened eyes. “Or what?”

        “I’m tired of you,” Nick glowered, and Nora stared back at Kellogg with all the ice she could muster. “I’ve spent about five-thousand-five-hundred hours thinkin’ about what you’ve done to this good decent woman, and wonderin’ how many more you’ve hurt,” he said, voice almost wavering. Nora nearly grabbed his hand under the table. “You were already spotted with another boy in Diamond City—” Kellogg snorted— “And I don’t take kindly to kidnappers, so don’t even test me.”

        Kellogg sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Well, _I’ve_ spent those hours waiting for my contact,” he lamented like he was the one inconvenienced. “Waiting for them to take _me_ home too. I’ve been running from you and from those... _synth justice fanatics_... for seven. Damn. Months.” Kellogg’s voice was full of cold anger. “I’ve been here in this bunker for weeks, thinking just maybe I need to stay still enough for the Institute to find me. But I see how it is now. I’m like a rat in a goddamn trap. And I blame you,” he said pointedly to Nora.

        “Excuse me?” she sneered. “I didn’t murder someone to rip an infant from his parents, how is any of this my fault?”

        “You think they’re stupid?” Kellogg craned his neck. “You think they don’t know you’re alive, what you’re doing out here? They’ve abandoned me because they know once you get your vengeance you’ll be off their tail. No more leads.”

        “We can both leave here alive, but that’s your choice to make,” Nora said.

        Kellogg’s expression softened, but his brow remained skeptical. “You know I don’t believe that.”

        “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to tear you to shreds... but more than that I want my son. OK?” The grief shuddered in her chest. “I can’t get my husband back from you, I just want Shaun back.”

        “If you’re worried about your kid being in the wrong hands, I understand. But have you ever considered that he’s got the world on a string now that he isn’t with you?” Kellogg asked with unnerving concern. “You’ve seen the wasteland, is that really what you want for a child you supposedly love?”

        “Watch it,” Nick warned.

        “I’m a parent too,” Kellogg added. “ _Technically._ If you ask me, this isn’t about Shaun. Not really. I think this is just some selfish way for you to cling to your dead dreams— move on.”

        “Like hell a merc is gonna judge a good woman,” Nick said.

        “I might not have much,” Nora said, her throat tight. “But I see smart, happy children out here, and I haven’t given up on this world like you have. I’ve seen it blossom for the better already—  and I’ve fought… I’ve fought so hard, and once I have him back I’ll keep fighting for him. I don’t know why your people want my baby—”

        “He’s not a baby anymore,” Kellogg said, as if he were relishing it.

        Nora shut her eyes tight and took a breath. “I don’t even care if he’s a _teenager_ , I just want to hold my son again.”

        “Listen. In another life, I would’ve admired your tenacity. It’s not exactly what I expected from someone like you. Hell, I get it.” He leaned forward slightly. “But now? I don’t give a shit what you want. Not when I’m going to die out here because you can’t leave it be and accept that your kid is Institute property now.”

        “Property?” she whispered.

        “I can’t get fucking medical attention from them,” he continued. “The infection is spreading to my joint replacement. Directly or indirectly, you’ve murdered me, _Elizabeth Zian_.”

        Nora sensed herself trembling, hearing a name she hadn’t been called in what seemed like a lifetime. A name that only existed in this world on a Vault-tec computer. A name that linked her to a dead man.

        “Yeah, that dog don’t hunt,” Nick said, surprising her with his confidence.

        “Excuse me?”

        “If you’re gonna die some slow, painful death, why not just end your suffering? Seven months? As your body destroys itself? Why wait for _us_ to just prove the point of the people who tossed you away?” There was a charged venom to the last sentiment, and Nora knew there was just a drop of empathy.

        “That’s the thing, see... I got a theory.” He took one last drag before snuffing his cigarette out on the table. “The Institute will take me back.”

        “How so?” Nora asked. Perhaps they could cut a deal. He _was_ a merc. And she was desperate.

        “Well, Elizabeth, it’s simple. I just gotta get rid of you.”

        “Two against one,” Nick said, clicking the safety of his gun. “Don’t you even try.”

        “Actually, I’ve got backup.”

        Kellogg whistled between his teeth. Nora could hardly think before Nick shoved her under the desk, and all she heard was the loud snaps and pangs of laser weapons. The shock of it all stunned her for a moment. Nick and Kellogg’s feet scuffled beside her, fighting up close, maybe even wrestling for a gun.

        She heard a shot above her head, then another. Luckily, her friend could take fire; it would hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t _kill_ him. A gun clattered down and she realized in horror it was Nick’s. Her heart raced even faster, and she did the only thing she could think of; she swept her leg into Kellogg’s. He fell hard onto the ground. Nick picked up his weapon and kicked Kellogg’s under a computer cabinet.

        “Hold him there, kiddo!” Nick called out. “I got a shockwave for my ugly stepbrothers.”

        Nora climbed out from under the desk, her new pistol in hand. Kellogg caught sight of her and crawled towards where his own weapon had slid.

        “Freeze, or I’ll shoot you!” Nora yelled. The man kept crawling. She wasn’t used to being disobeyed by an unarmed foe, and he was moving so damn slow. Nora could hear Nick physically assaulting the assassins. “I said freeze!” she demanded. Again Kellogg ignored. She fired a warning shot next to him.

        “Kid!” Nick shouted.

        “He’s not listening!” Nora replied, panicked.

        “Then shoot ‘im!”

        Kellogg reached the cabinet and pulled out the gun. He flopped onto his back. Their eyes met— but instead of fire and fury, his were already devoid of anything. Nora couldn’t tell if adrenaline had slowed time or if he merely didn’t intend on pulling the trigger. But she couldn’t risk it.

        She fired her weapon twice. Nick suddenly appeared and stood in front of her like a shield.

        “Th— This? And just for _that? Waste_...” Kellogg’s voice gurgled. And then there was nothing.

        “Nick.”

        “It’s over.”

        “Nick...”

        “He’s gone, hun.” Nick turned around and dropped his gloves on the floor. “It’s over.” Her legs buckled and Nick sank down with her. She panted against his shoulder; blood was pooling out on the floor. “It’s over, I got you. I got you, sweetheart.”

        His mechanical hand stroked her hair again, like that first night, like so many nights after, and she wrapped herself tighter around him. Her ears rang and pounded; her heart reverberated off her metal armor and back into her rib cage. Despite the din of her own body, she could hear his coolant pump, and she remembered how nice it was to settle her chest against his and to feel his workings rumble. She wanted to strip off her armor... But her limbs were too heavy.

        “Nick.” She breathed in his bitter scent instead of the pungent gunpowder that stung her nose.

        “Hmm.”

        “Thank you.”

        “For what, hun?”

        “For being here. For all of it. Since day one.”

        “Thank you for lettin’ me.”

        The sentiment overwhelmed her. A thousand words danced on her tongue but none of them made sense. So she cried instead.

        ---

        Nora sat in a daze, partially collapsed in an armchair that she assumed was well-used by the man she had just killed. The man who had ruined her life.

        Nick’s steps approached. “Filled your canteen. The water fountains still work down here, and it seems pure enough. Must be ‘cause the Minutemen reclaimed the treatment plant.” He held out the vessel. “Want some?”

        Nora shrugged but partook anyway. Her head was still swimming with thoughts. Here she was, again, in a secret underground location. Yet another bunker that did who-knows-what right below her feet while she’d gone about her pre-war life, blissfully unaware. Had Nate known about this? How much hadn’t he told her about the war, to keep her from being scared? Why hadn’t he prepared her more? Why did she have to do this alone, without him? What the hell did the Institute want with their son so badly that Nate had to die for it?

        _Kellogg._ Him being dead and Nora being victorious made her fear the liquid flowing down her throat might come back up. She coughed a bit, water and spit sloppily covering her chin.

        “Hey, easy does it,” Nick said. “Don’t drown.” She wiped her mouth. “You still, uh… not wanting to talk?”

        Nora looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Am I a bad person?”

        “No. Not at all,” Nick balked. “Why would you think that?”

        “I killed him in cold blood.”

        “He attacked us first.”

        “I was glad,” she said, her voice shaking. “I wanted to kill him.”

        Nick knelt down in front of her. “Listen... You just wanted it to be over. As I cop, I consider it self-defense against a guy who had it comin’. Your mercy would’ve been lost on him, anyhow. Even if we all walked out of there alive, I’m sure defying the Institute is a fate worse than death.” He shrugged. “Maybe you gave him the easy way out.”

        “I don’t know which is worse for me. Maybe he should’ve suffered.”

        “Yeah. Well. That might’ve given the Institute pleasure.” Nick got to his feet. “I did the rounds once over already. Gonna see if _he_ ’s got any clues on him.”

        After she finished her canteen, she strolled listlessly around the office area, examining the strange futuristic instruments left behind, and pocketing a few things for herself. Her path eventually reached Nick— and Kellogg’s remains.

        The detective noticed her presence. “You don’t have to see this, hun.”

        “I’m not so squeamish,” Nora said softly as she sat beside him. The merc lay sprawled with one bloody hand on his clavicle and the other crossed over his chest, almost like he’d expected the lights to go out. Luckily he’d turned away in his final moment so she didn’t have to look him in the blue face.

        “I meant… it’s him, so…” He pulled something off of the man’s belt. “A Stealth Boy? _Good Lord,_ why the hell didn’t he use it? Here, you hold on to this, could save your life one day.”

        “What’s it do?”

        “It‘s a cloaking shield. Makes you more or less invisible.”

        It jarred Nora from her stupor. “Seriously?”

        “Yeah— but one time only. So don’t squander it making a midnight trip to the fridge,” Nick quipped, and she cautiously attached it to her own belt. “Here, I’m gonna flip him to see what’s in his back pockets— it might get a lil gory since you… kinda… _yeah_ … so heads up.”

        Nora glanced away, and her eye focused on _the gun_. The one he didn’t fire for God knows what reason. The one that—

        “What the HELL is that?” Nick exclaimed. Nora jumped and looked over, her adrenaline pumping. What she saw was not what she expected. “Is he a— Is he a synth?”

        Shrapnel stuck out of the mess of blood and tissue in Kellogg’s neck, but it wasn’t leftovers from the bullet. It had wires and attached into the man’s head itself.

        “That’s not… That’s not one of those synth brain thingies,” Nora said. “I’ve seen one, Deacon showed me. That’s something else.”

        “Go get me those tweezers, the ones he had with all the other weird gadgets.” Nora scrambled up to her feet. “And something to put this in,” he called after her.

        “Oh God, we’re gonna _take it_?”

        “I wanna find out what it is. And knowing the Railroad and how much they love their secrets, Deacon’s gonna say ‘ _I didn’t see anything’_ ,” Nick chided.

        “They’re not liars— I mean, he is— but— ” Nora grabbed what Nick had asked for and headed back to his side. “Never mind, I don’t want to get into it.”

        After passing Nick the tools, the adrenaline subsided, and she felt exhausted again. Her eyes again averted from the corpse and back to that pistol on the ground. Slowly, she bent down and reached for it.

        “Ugh. Disgusting. Well, guess I owed you one,” Nick muttered. There was a pause as Nora lifted the weapon to stare at it. “You... OK?”

        “This is the gun. This is the gun he killed my Nate with.” It hurt her chest, but she had no tears left to sob.

        “Christ, that’s... I’m sorry,” Nick said in a hushed tone. “Do you—” She unloaded the bullets and fired it just to make sure, before putting it in her bag. “You... You wanna _keep_ it?”

        “I’m not going to use it, or put it up on my wall, but... something needs to be done with it.”

        He let out an exhale. “Too significant, eh?”

        “Yeah. And I just... I don’t feel amazing about revenge but... I think I’d feel good choosing what happens to the thing that took my husband.”

        “Revenge... didn’t feel good?” Nick asked.

        She looked down at him, puzzled. Perhaps the sentiment was rarer than she thought. “No. Not really. The closure is what feels good. Though, it would’ve been poetic to kill a man with his own gun.”

        “Yeah, but then it wouldn’t be self-defense. You’re better than that, hun. You’re better than most of us.”

        “No, I’m not,” she said hoarsely. “Not any better than you, at least.”

        Nick let out a puff of air that was either a laugh or a sigh. Before she could comment, he stood up.

        “ _Oof._ ” He put a hand to his chest and looked down at it. There was a hole in his lapel. “Guess I was overdue for a new battle scar, eheh.”

        She approached him. “Does it hurt?”

        “Nah. Like a bee-sting, y’know. More annoyed I gotta sew somethin’ up again,” he grumbled as he thumbed at the fabric.

        “He almost got me too, just like Nate…” She brought her arms to her chest. “He _would’ve_ got me too.”

        “Nah, never.” Nick shook his head. “Never ever.”

        She peered up at him. “How do you know?”

        “Remember what that kooky old lady said to you? You’re not gonna die yet.”

        She gave him a weak smile. “I thought you didn’t believe in that.”

        “I don’t. But you do.” He smiled back and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t stop hangin’ onto those things you’ve got faith in.”

        “So I should just walk through a crossfire next time?” Nora tilted her head.

        His smile faltered. “Don’t push it,” he deadpanned. She managed to laugh. “You know what they said in church; God helps those who help themselves.”

        “You _were_ religious, huh?” she asked slyly.

        “That’s extremely subjective,” Nick said with an annoyed tone. “And the line is mostly what I told folks who used prayer as an excuse to sit on their ass.”

        She lifted her chin confidently. “Well, I refuse to.”

        “I know you do, that’s why you’re good.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Well. All’s said and done.” Nick glanced around. “Guess Deacon and his militia got lost or something. His sunglasses are probably too dark for these corridors. Might as well head topside.”

        “Did you find anything? I mean, before I came over?”

        “I found a stimpack and an unused grenade. You want ‘em?”

        “You didn’t find a communicator or a… a map? Journal?” she asked. Nick shook his head casually, but for some reason instead of his calm demeanor easing her, it ignited her ire. Panic hit her chest. “So this is it. We’ve got a sob story and a brain stem. What even happens now? Is it just another dead end?”

        “We’re gonna see this thru. We’ll get justice. I promise. I promise you,” he repeated, as if expecting another breakdown.

        “You really believe that?” Her eyes watered again. “After a guy who works for the Institute can’t even get in contact with them?”

        “Yeah, in fact, I’ve never believed in anything more. Have I ever let you down?”

        “No,” she mouthed.

        “And I’m not gonna start. Hey. Chin up. I know the night just got darker, but it won’t last forever.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked, and she leaned against him. “It’s not the end of the road. It’s just a road _-block_ , but guess what? Now you got friends who burrow underground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think this story ends here? Well, it _doesn't_ [thunder cracking] because I already said there were 3 parts.
> 
> Chapter 3/3 will be up before the end of the month! What an exciting action packed November for you! I'm saying this to convince myself that you're enjoying this format. (I'm writing this note at 5am because NaNo has made me exist outside time and space. Did you know there are five Fridays this month? What is happening.)
> 
> That said, THANK YOU for the love and support on the first chapter, I was so worried about the format for this month and you all were so sweet and encouraging. <3 You make me wanna work harder!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! NaNo has been completed and therefore the 3rd part of this chapter arrives, which I totally meant to post yesterday oop. Thanks to [seaweedredandbrown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweedredandbrown/pseuds/seaweedredandbrown) for betareading this monster.

        “Deacon, in here!” Nora called as the spy passed by the Fort’s mess hall. He beamed and half-jogged over, clad in his leather Railroad armor.

        “Seen your handiwork littering the halls, _nice job_ you two.” Something clattered behind him. Deacon whipped back; one of his followers jumped away from a skeleton that had apparently fallen onto the floor. “Hey, watch where you’re going and have some fucking respect for the dead. _Jesus_.”

        “‘Bout time your crew got here,” Nick grumbled.

        “Sorry. We all didn’t want to descend at once, y’know?”

        “We could’ve really used some backup there, D.” Nora sighed.

        “Well, you’re alive, and that’s all that matters,” Deacon said. They both frowned at him. “ _What?”_

        “That smart-mouthed girl and her mini-gun would’ve made Swiss cheese of the assassins,” Nick griped.

        “Well, she does fire indiscriminately,” Nora argued.

        “Fair point,” Nick agreed.

        “Not at other agents, though,” Deacon said.

        “Well, _Kellogg_ ,” Nick shrugged.

        Deacon scoffed. “What about him?”

        “We couldn’t have had a conversation if he was dead, bucko,” Nick said.

        “Well, yeah, but...” Deacon trailed off. “Wait. You did what?”

        “I told you Nick and I were good at problem-solving,” Nora said proudly.

        “But he’s... he _is dead,_ right?”

        “As a doornail,” Nick said.

        “ _Only_ once he leapt out of his seat and attacked us,” Nora added, wanting to keep her integrity intact as Deacon gaped at her.

        “Must’ve panicked when he realized he had no more info to give,” Nick continued.

        Nora nodded. “Yeah. I think they _were_ strategically keeping him in the dark.”

        “Wait, wait, hold the fuck up,” Deacon said, waving his hand. “You just... You just sat down and _talked with him_?”

        “Yeah,” Nora shrugged.

        He turned to Nick.

        “God, really, you’re questioning _her_?”

        “Holy shit.” Deacon pinched his brow. “You’re _insane_. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.”

        “You would’ve shot him as soon as you saw him, wouldn’t you?” Nora parried.

        “Well— I mean... In a perfect world, I’d haul his ass in for an interrogation, but he’s the most dangerous man in the Commonwealth. He’s killed, like, everyone we’ve ever set on his trail.”

        “Gee, you could’ve told us that detail before you sent us in alone,” Nick complained.

        “Like, he’s been around since I can remember,” Deacon continued, ignoring Nick. “And I’ve been around for a long, _long_ time, my friends.”

        “How old  _are_ you?” Nick asked.

        He put his hands on his hips. “You know, you are so rude.”

        “Deacon,” Nora interrupted.

        “What.”

        “I got you intel.”

        He straightened up with interest. “Yeah?”

        “And whatever the hell this is,” she said as she handed him the mint container.

        He laughed as he opened it, and the smile vanished from his face. “Hoooooly mother of Christ, what is _that_?”

        “My thoughts exactly,” Nick muttered.

        “It was sticking out of his neck,” Nora said. “I think my bullet, like... dislodged it.” She held back a gag.

        “I pulled it out since she does the dirty work for me when dealin’ with the Gen 2’s. Wish I could delete memories from my head, but we all gotta make sacrifices.”

        “Guys, this is... I think this is a cyborg implant... I’ve heard about these but I’ve never actually seen one.” He closed the tin. “I gotta... I gotta get this to Amari,” Deacon said in a stupor.

        “You know Amari?” Nick asked.

        “Of course I know Amari. _You_ know Amari?”

        “I’ve known Amari since she first crawled onto Irma’s— uh— Irma’s... doorstep.”

        Deacon smirked. “Is that a euphemism, Nicky?”

        “I thought you knew Amari,” he said evasively.

        “Then it is!”

        Nora had only met the two women once before, while helping their boarder Kent with his mission to ‘clean up the streets’. The business partners also being a potential item had never crossed her mind. She could be dense that way, though Nick had said nothing about it either. And Nora always suspected that Nick _liked_ Irma, or... as much as he _could_ be interested in someone. The lady of the den was the only other human he had flirtatious words for. Irma was older than Nora, and a femme fatale type, both of which paired better with him than a single mom did. But maybe now with the confirmation that Irma was more interested in another woman, Nora would be less jealous next time they stumbled into the Memory Den. Which was... silly. But...

        “So what, are we good?” a voice asked. It was Glory, shrugging in question from across the hall. “Did he get away again?”

        “He’s dead, Glor’,” Deacon said soberly.

        “He’s _dead_?” Once Nora said nothing to the contrary, Glory mouthed a pleased O.  “Did you kill ’im, sis?”

        “Yeah,” Nora admitted. She wasn’t exactly proud of herself for taking a life, but from everyone’s reactions maybe it truly was a long-time coming.

        “Is he still there— I gotta see.”

        “Yeah, go, you morbid little gremlin,” Deacon waved his hand. “The adults are talking.”

        “You and me, we’re kin,” Glory said, pointing to Nora as she backed out of the room. “We’re kin for life.”

        “Well, guess we really owe you one _again_ , huh?”

        “Who’s counting?” Nora smiled.

        “Someone should,” Nick added, and she nudged him.

        “We’ll take it from here. Scrounge up some salvage while we’re at it, this place looks it’s gonna be  _loaded_. Carrington can do an autopsy, see what else the Six Million Dollar Man’s got implanted in him.” He shook his head. “Cyborgs... Shit, that’s another level.”

        “Yeah, guess if that wasn’t really on your radar either I don’t feel so stupid being out of the loop,” Nick said.

        “I guess next you should meet us at Amari’s.”

        “Not tonight,” Nick said firmly, and Nora was glad he took the initiative. She was feeling less talkative the longer reality had to set in.

        “Why not tonight?” Deacon countered.

        “I want her to rest up. She ain’t on the clock for your folks tonight; this is her business, our case.”

        “Kellogg is kind of my business too, buddy.”

        “Well, you can take his disgusting gray-matter to the Memory Den and do whatever you damn please with it. But this poor gal needs to sleep.”

        Deacon pursed his lips for a second. “Alright. What the hell, you earned a night’s sleep, boss.”

        “Glad to hear it,” Nora said tiredly.

        “But the Institute is going to find out sooner rather than later that their boy is no more. So. If you aren’t around to help, we’re gonna act without you.”

        Nora nodded. “I just need some rest. I need to process what happened today.”

        “Yeah.” Deacon scratched his stubble. “Yeah... Well you, uh... You hang in there, pal.”

        “Thanks.” Nora sighed with a smile.

        “And you,” he said to Nick. “I’m sure you know what to do to turn her frown upside down.”

        “Yeah. I do.”

        “Cool. Morale, right? Hey, just know I’m ecstatic, and I don’t say that very often.” He shot her a finger gun. “See ya on the flip-side, amiga.”

        She gave a lazy wave.

        “You wanna hole up here, or far, far away?” Nick asked softly.

        “Ideally I’d be tucked in at home, but... I can’t walk that far.”

        “Let’s find a bunk then. Barricade the door so Elvis and your kid sister don’t barge in for a slumber party.”

        She giggled. “Yeah.”

        ---

        Luck bent in their favor today: Fort Hagen possessed an officers’ quarters of sorts, a living suite separate from the barracks. A king-sized bed, a couch with a (signalless) TV set, and even a built-in bathroom. As she often did at the end of a stressful day, Nora found herself analyzing every moment of their encounter with Kellogg. Mistakes she’d made, improvements for the future, kicking herself for not saying everything that had plagued her sleepless nights.

        “I’m sorry I was so useless in there.” Nora sighed.

        “How so? You got him, kid, in two shots.”

        “No, I mean... You did all the talking, I just froze. Not very lawyer-like.”

        “Hun, how many attorneys cross examine the person who hurt them? None.”

        “I guess,” she murmured.

        “I think you were incredible in there. You shocked even the Railroad.”

        Nora tossed her new armor onto the floor in a tired huff and stripped down to her damp tank top. She then became conscious of the smell coming off her body.

        “Disgusting. _Ugh.”_ She groaned in embarrassment. “I’ve been sweating like a pig this whole time— how can you stand me?”

        “You’re fine. And fun fact: pigs don’t sweat.”

        “I’m gonna see if that shower works… If not I’ll wash up in the sink.”

        Nick nodded and nearly collapsed onto the L-shaped couch. She wondered if the day had taken a toll on him as well.

        To her chagrin, the showerhead dribbled icy water. Not worth getting naked and standing under.

        _Well. Plan B._

        The sink’s pipes rumbled once she turned on the spigot, sputtering out air before orange rust-scented water spewed out in waves like someone coughing up blood. It was a common occurrence in these ancient bathrooms; the question being would the water ever run clear.

        She looked in the mirror, the florescent light buzzing overhead after centuries of disuse, and was horrified by what she saw.

        Nine months ago, in her last hour of normalcy, she’d been glowing, content, a new mother applying her makeup before her young family’s long-awaited outing. Now her once sparkling eyes were puffy, and harsh lines of stress and sleepless nights made them look sunken and bruised. Somehow her hair was both greasy _and_ wiry, her skin blemished from sun and sweat — and of course she sported a newly split lip. Had she looked this pitiful in Kellogg‘s presence?

        Three hours in front of the vanity mirror would still not return her to the way she’d remembered. When she was happy. Maybe it made her stupid and vain, but the thought of aging so much in less than a year caused her to burst into tears. Her sobs bounced around the tile, even though she tried to contain them.

        There was a knock.

        “You need anything?” Nick asked tenderly from the other side.

        “I’m just being stupid.”

        “You’re not stupid. No way, no how.”

        Not smelly, not stupid— even if it wasn’t true, it was nice to hear someone would put up with her this way. The water finally ran clear, though it still had a metallic odor. She was used to the same scent coming off of Nick, she hardly minded having it on her body too.

        Still, she’d gladly kill again for a hot shower. Losing access to that common thing, now a rare luxury, made her emotions teeter again.

        After a fumbling sponge bath, blurred by tears, Nora staggered into the room. Nick was leaning against the back of the couch, facing the bathroom door, and he looked up quickly with worry. Something about seeing him so concerned and more ragged than she could ever be caused the words to stick in her throat even more.

        “You OK?” Nick asked.

        She shook her head.

        “Overwhelmed?”

        She nodded.

        “You wanna talk about it?”

        She shook her head faster, embarrassed that these old habits from her childhood still flared up like this.

        “You need a hug?”

        Nora waved a hand and briskly headed to where she’d thrown her pack. She didn’t understand why, but just looking at him and being offered such kindness made her feel like she would erupt violently into sobs— and she was already dehydrated enough. And starving. She grabbed a PBJ from her bag and shoved it ravenously into her mouth as she stared down at the plaster-littered floor.

        “Want me to stop talking?” Nick asked. She looked up at him, her teeth stuck with peanut butter and unable to speak even if she felt like it. Nora let out a small, muffled laugh and shrugged.

        “Alright. Then I’ll be right here,” he said, gesturing at the couch. “Won’t say a word.”

        Nora finished her sandwich and her bedtime routine, and watched for a while in silence as Nick filled out his crosswords. He was getting pretty damn far into the book she’d gifted him. It was probably doing his wandering mind more good than either of them expected, like some kind of mystery-based therapy that didn’t revolve around human suffering for a change. Should she see a therapist again? Did therapists even exist anymore? Did she need a therapist when she had people around her like Nick who could help her through all her PTSD from experience?

        Something struck her mind.

        “Hey Nick... You said something to Kellogg,” she started cautiously, “about your fellow officers not helping you. Did that... have something to do with…”

        Nick took a breath. “That’s a can of worms, hun.”

        “For me or for you?”

        There was a great pause. Then Nick closed his book.

        “I think I saw some Abraxo down the hall when we were scopin’ out rooms.” He stood up from the couch. “Why don’t I wash up your clothes a lil’ while you sleep. Then you won’t be so sad.”

        “OK,” Nora murmured, and he grabbed the pile quickly, as well as the rubber gloves. “You don’t have to tell me your secrets, Nick. Especially not ones from your past. But if you ever need to talk it out... I know what it’s like to lose a spouse.”

        He blinked and then smirked down at her, though it was missing his glimmer. “Usually I’m doing the comforting.”

        “Sometimes easing someone else’s pain takes the focus off your own,” Nora said softly. And the way his eyes darted told her she was reading him to a T.

        ---

        _Damn lawyers._ Back in the day they’d made some of his cases Hell. Discovering loopholes, things his task force had missed, possibilities he knew were there but hoped they wouldn’t find. Nick would’ve never sent an innocent person to prison, but he’d been up against mafia men with bloated wallets. With enough money and moral bankruptcy, a good attorney could convince a jury that witnesses had simply hallucinated a hit order due to an absinthe-spiked punch.

        But Nora had them all beat. She spoke the truths about himself that he tried to swat away like flies. She had a rebuttal for all the practiced excuses he’d made for six decades— so it was easier for him to run. As Nick scrubbed her yellowing shirt, he realized he couldn’t evade his best friend’s wits forever. Yes, she had the respect not to bulldoze conversational boundaries, but that only made the guilt worse. Nora would wait endlessly, worrying herself to bits for his sake, slowly peeling away layers until there was no fib left to hide behind.

        Nick wasn’t exactly sure what he was afraid of, other than the pain of being so emotionally open over his loss, one that sometimes was as raw as the night he’d found out. Grief over someone who he had technically never met. Often it sickened him; he felt like a bad person brooding over a dead man’s fiancee, thinking about the name and face of the bastard who did it and got away. Wanting justice in the same way Nora just achieved.

        It was like a tacked-on backstory, a sick trope where a slain woman haunted the noir detective’s psyche. Over and over, Nick struggled to cast her, that life, and the poor cop’s family away from him, wishing he could just let it go like a balloon. But it was shackled on tight. Code that couldn’t be hacked without fundamentally changing the person he was today, because what was a human but their collective experiences?

        _Human._ Funny choice of words. Why did he kid himself?

        Maybe because that feisty little lawyer scrunched up her nose and gave him the what-for every time he didn’t believe it.

        Nick would tell her. Everything. _Eventually._

        The moment had to be right. When she wasn’t so spent and fragile and her big empathetic heart could endure the hardships of both the synth _and_ the man who was Nick Valentine, Chicago Police Detective.

        Nora didn’t stir when he crept back into the dim room. In fact, she was curled up in her sleeping bag over the covers, nearly on the edge of the mattress. He wondered if she’d been thrashing in her sleep, however the blankets weren’t disturbed.

        After hanging up her damp clothes on the shower rod, he watched her from the bathroom door for a moment. Thank goodness she’d dozed off and wasn’t weeping anymore. Unless she’d cried herself to sleep while he was gone. Why did he go and put his anxieties over her needs like that?

        At least her clothes were cleaned.

        Once on the couch, he realized there wasn’t enough light to adequately read or write. Nick debated hiding in the bathroom for a while where he could solve puzzles without disturbing her. Maybe he’d just sit here. Think. Figure out what the hell he wanted to say to her about Nick and Jenny and the reason he ended up in Boston, and the best way to say it. Have a mental script he could recite so he wouldn’t lose his nerve when her doe eyes welled and made him turn to mush.

        Feet shuffled over as Nora made her way around the couch to him. She dropped her pillow and sleeping bag next to his lap.

        Nick peered up at her. “Do you want me to move?”

        “Stay,” she breathed.

        Nora laid down, squeezing into her padded cocoon, and then rested her head on Nick’s knee. She stared bleary eyed into space, not saying anything.

        “Are you alright?” Nick asked, unsure if she needed or even wanted comforting.

        “Sheets smell like mildew,” Nora whispered. Maybe so, but it wasn’t the full story. The couch had ample room where she could lay and yet she chose to make his hard limbs her pillow. Her eyes flickered to his face, and Nick could tell she was aware the excuse was shaky. “Big bed freaked me out a little,” she admitted. “I just need to be close to someone for a minute.”

        Touch starvation. Made sense.

        “Whatever you need, it’s yours,” Nick replied. She gave him a small yet grateful smile.

        There was silence as Nora’s eyes blinked and grew heavier. She eventually whispered his name.

        “Hmm?”

        “I just missed you,” she mumbled. And then her breathing slowed into what he knew was sleep carrying her off.

        He’d never been this emotionally close to another person, not in any life. Besides Jenny, Ellie had been the nearest, though his live-in secretary was like the daughter he never had, had never planned on. But what was Nora? Something else unplanned. Unanticipated. Unknown. A kindred spirit, a friend he may have never made had it not been for their devastating circumstances. It would’ve been highly inappropriate for a doughy graying detective to befriend and scamper away on adventures with a fledgling lawyer turned new mother. Maybe even predatory, though everything was perfectly platonic. Jenny would’ve never approved either way. But again, different circumstances.

        It was debatable if he indeed was that Nick. An old synth had no real age-appropriate peer, not anymore. So many of his 23rd Century friends were in the ground, or nearing it, and even they made him feel ancient. Nora being a blast from the past was the closest thing he’d ever have to a peer out here. Plus, he’d be hard pressed to find anyone over sixty who could keep up.

        She nuzzled into the pillow as she slept, and he brushed the fringe out of her eyes. It was better not to analyze it too much, to just let them be. Every time Nick over-thought things, he fell into another emotional crisis.

        Nora was the best thing that ever happened to him. And that was enough.

        ---

        “What decade were you born?” Nora asked as they made their way to the elevator.

        “No.”

        “Please? I remember roughly thirty-years of stuff, but it’d be nice to know what generation I’m talking to. My youngest uncle? Eldest cousin?” She shrugged. “Things like that.”

        “Only if you promise never to ask for a specific year.”

        “OK.”

        Nick stopped in his tracks. “It’s was the 20s,” he mumbled.

        She ran her finger along one of his facial scars. “So old.”

        “Not _that_ old!” He pushed her hand away.

        “I’m gonna keep making fun of you until you give in and tell me.”

        “Is that the kind of espionage that Deacon’s been teaching you?” Nick groaned.

        “That and being one of the younger kids in my family.”

        “Well, at least I know you ain’t young enough to be _Nick’s_ kid.” They resumed walking. “You really scared me for a sec.”

        “I’d still be a grown woman.”

        “Yeah, but it’s…”

        “Piper follows at your heels, why would it be different with me if I was twenty-four?”

        “You’d be half his age.”

        She turned to him quickly. “Did you just give me a number?”

        “Knock it off.”

        “Only if you stop being so cute when you’re upset,” Nora said, bumping into him.

        “K— Knock it off.” He chuckled. Nick took her hand so she wouldn’t twist her ankle on an uneven barrier of fallen flooring.

        “So, doing the math…” Nora said as she stepped over it towards him, “at the worst, we’d still be Bogart and Bacall. And they didn’t do too shabby.”

        Nick gave her a small smile. “I thought I was the one with all the ancient actor trivia.”

        “I know some things. I  _was_  raised by my grandparents, old man.”

        He drew his hand away. “Oh, keep talkin’, brat.”

        “Well, I hope we’ve got more time together than they did. Till death do us part, right?”

        “I ain’t going nowhere, so that’s up to you and your reckless streak, kid.”

        “I’d consider being a ghoul but I kind of like having a nose. And ears. And skin. And _hair_.”

        Nick laughed. “You know, last night I was thinking about how advanced the Institute must be to have a bonafide cyborg on the payroll. Who knows what kind of scientific secrets Deacon and his pals could steal for the good of the ‘Wealth. Maybe a serum that keeps you here for a hundred more years, with your cute ears and curls intact?”

        “I’d like that. I mean. As long I’ve got immortal friends like you.” She glanced at him. “I’m sorry you’ve been out here so long, being so lonely.”

        He shrugged. “Ah, it’s not so bad.”

        “I’m thankful I get to spend my future with you. You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”

        “ _Most?_ That’s a lil’ inappropriate. I can’t be any better than your husband.”

        Nora gave a soft laugh. But then her face slowly contorted, and he saw the pain rush into her again.

        “Oh _God_ , I’m sorry—” Nick cursed his lapse of sensitivity for the sake of self-deprecation. “That was an open wound.”

        “I can’t b— believe he’s ju— just gone.” Tears streamed down her cheeks like someone turned on the tap. “Every time I think of Nate I think of Kellogg— and now Kellogg’s dead too— so all I… It’s like—” She was hyperventilating now and Nick felt helpless. “Nothing will ever bring Nate back— he’s just gone and I’ll never— I just— it hurts so ba—”

        Nick knew. He understood every little horrific emotion that was surging through her body at this moment. One could experience all the death in the world, but there was _nothing_ like losing a spouse. Nick had been lucky, though; he hadn’t borne witness their murder. Nora clawed at her chest and took large gasps like she could barely get air— he worried she was having some sort of medical crisis before he realized she was frantically grasping for the wedding band still around her neck.

        Maybe she had been doomed to trigger herself at any second tonight, or he had been the cigarette that set the forest ablaze. Either way, he rushed to her aid, not sure how to act or what she needed in this moment. He murmured words of comfort and dabbed at her cheeks, helping her to breathe, the way he wished someone had been there for him in his worst days of mourning.

        “I never— never ever thought I’d hear someone call me that name again,” Nora said, regaining enough composure to speak. “It freaked me out.”

        The detective suddenly realized why the woman was so hellbent on giving herself a new moniker out here — the dead names alone made everything spill back. Nick was the opposite in that regard, clinging to anything he could claim as a human identity, living in memories just so he didn’t feel like _a thing_. If it weren’t for the given-name, he’d be nothing but a serial number.

        “He had no business calling you that, whether he was trying to be cruel or not. Hell, none of your names belong on his lips.”

        Nora whispered gratitude, then let out a long exhale. “This is exhausting. The grieving process is hard enough, and now… I just…” She made broad gestures. “ _Everything_.”

        “I know.”

        “All I want is for it to be over, but I feel like it’s just started,” Nora said as she wiped her eyes.

        “Maybe it has. But that doesn’t mean that Snowy doesn’t come out on top, right?”

        Nora burst into tears again, but it was not agony. It was laughter.

        “What, is that funny?” Nick asked, relieved but befuddled.

        “Sometimes you’re just so earnest I can’t help it.” She cupped his face in her hands. “You’re the most wonderful _synth_ I’ve ever met.”

        Nick laughed. “That’s better. C’mon, dry those cheeks. We’re gonna make a break for the closest tavern and I’ll buy whatever you want off the menu.”

        “You _are_ wonderful.”

        ---

        After so many cathartic sob sessions and Nick’s assurance of pride in her, she felt lighter. Nora had no idea where her search for the Institute would lead next, but Kellogg no longer loomed over her. In fact, she would never have to think of him again. The Railroad could deal with all that while she and Nick faced the future instead of the past. Well, in some ways. Nick was still grappling with his own battles as they stepped out of the elevator onto the roof exit.

        “But the digital memory thing is kinda strange,” Nick continued. “‘Cause you know how you suddenly remember these pinpoint moments in your life and think ‘Oh, that’s why I’m this way’? It’s like that, except with everything.”

        “Now that sounds exhausting,” Nora chuckled.

        “It was. But at this point I think I’ve discovered 90% of the important stuff, so the things that come back now are more like… movie plots and very specific sandwiches.”

        Nora took a deep breath of the summer air, finally something fresh rather than full of rot and God knows what else. Time had slipped away from her down there being so far from daylight. She checked her PipBoy: 8pm, yet the sun still rested in the sky.

        Nick turned to her with a more serious expression. “Y’know… despite having most of the pieces, there’re parts of this puzzle that I just gotta stand back and make sense of. Something I keep putting off because right now I don’t really like what I see.” He gave a small shrug. “But when I do, you’re gonna be the one I want to talk to about it.”

        “And I’ll be here for you,” Nora said, rubbing his shoulder.

        She then noticed her PipBoy light was flashing, alerting her of a new radio frequency. Something military.

        A voice she recognized crackled over the airwaves. “—of Steel units are to return to the Cambridge Police Station immediately for reassignment. Repeating… This is Paladin Danse on frequency nine-five—”

        “Great, what’re your trigger happy Luddites plannin’ now?” Nick grumbled.

        “Hopefully, they’re just gonna interrogate a fax machine,” Nora said as she shut it off.

        Now there was an odd sound on the wind, like a motor, but nothing like the bio-diesel generators she’s grown accustomed to. The rumble of it was familiar, nostalgic, and she found herself in a memory of when Nate took her to a military air show. Nick’s expression turned severe as he stared up at the sky, searching. Nora suddenly recognized it— a whirl akin to the vertibirds that used to fly over base, but the din kept growing louder.

        Lights tore down upon them from above.

        “People of the Commonwealth,” a voice boomed. She jumped and Nick protectively put his arm around her as if expecting an attack. A massive airship pushed its way from the cloud cover. “Do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel.”

        “Oh no,” she whispered.

        Nora had heard horror stories about them from Deacon and Nick. What was once a flawed but well-meaning organization had come under new leadership and now used its strong military for merciless violence under fascist principles. To get rid of the ‘Other’ and whoever supported them. They hated the Railroad almost more than the Institute did, and they thought ghouls were abominations unto nature and that anything that toed the line from human needed to be destroyed.

        Nora had made an accidental ally in Danse, back when she was green, but had seen firsthand how hostile he’d been towards Nick, even when he understood the synth was no threat. Danse was one man, one who could seem to put down a weapon in the name of civility and a friend’s feelings… but an entire blimp full of his brethren? Who could say what sort of chaos they would bring? What sort of wrench they’d throw in Nora and her comrades’ carefully laid plans? Or danger they posed toward the Railroad itself?

        She looked at Nick for reassurance. He seemed almost vacant.

        “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,” he said distantly, his eyes fixed on the ship.

        “Nicky?” she asked, voice squeaking a little with apprehension.

        “Wha?” Nick’s gaze snapped back to her. “Oh. Sorry I…” He wiggled his fingers at his brow, virtually in a daze. “I went somewhere.”

        “Well. Now that you’re back… I’m definitely gonna need that stiff drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for dealing with this format change like champs! This was an exhausting month! I have a short n' sweet fic coming up in December before we get into more long-winded plot. I appreciate every bit of support and feedback you all give me, and I hope I do good by youuuu :'0
> 
> Plugging [my main blog](http://television-for-dinner.tumblr.com/tagged/fic+stuff), my [my art/fanworks blog](http://tommytonebender.tumblr.com), cryptic message about checking my side bar, etcetera. I also have a Writing Twitter that is NOT spoiler free, so follow that at your own risk.


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